


Bedwarmer

by Killmongersmistress (teakturn)



Series: Bedwarmer [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harem, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Erik Being Cocky, Erik Has Feelings, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Harems, Multi, Original Character(s), POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, Poor Erik, Pre-Canon, Prince T'Challa (Marvel), Protective T'Challa (Marvel), Riding, Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soft M'Baku (Marvel), Sweet T'Challa (Marvel), Vaginal Sex, Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 11:25:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17021793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teakturn/pseuds/Killmongersmistress
Summary: Ula was a woman hated and loved and desired and she felt all of that at once and was happy with her life. She may be a bedwarmer, but she was also Ula the painter with leftover roast lamb waiting for her in her fridge.





	1. Ula

**Author's Note:**

> This series was originally posted on my tumblr blog.
> 
> Translations for this Part: 
> 
> “Umntwana uphangwe.” - Spoiled, child.  
> “Bastet unokusikelela,” - May Bastet bless you.

Ula walked the halls of the palace with her arms laden down with books. She’d just come from the Great Market and after haggling with the shop owner for over thirty minutes she’d come away with a handful of new releases and a few books she’d personally requested for a reasonable price. As he’d wrapped her purchases he’d called her, “Umntwana uphangwe.” under his breath. It had been in the Merchant dialect, known for its quick words and clipped phrases. He’d no doubt assumed her a child raised near the palace, therefore incapable of understanding such a bastardized version of their language.

Ula smiled in his face once he handed back her bag and with a parting, “Bastet unokusikelela,” left the Market for home.

It wouldn’t have been the first time someone assumed they knew her based off the clothes she wore and the accent she’d spoken with. Ula had grown up running through the Great Market back in the Merchant Tribe. Her parents had been performers by trade, not merchants. They’d made money following the caravan of sellers and traders around performing for money and sleeping in tents at night. Ula learned to walk amongst acrobats and dancers. She’d spoken her first words on the road, picking up dialects and languages with ease.

Ula knew every dialect in Wakanda and could speak any number of them fluently.

However, that’s not what her role in the palace called for. She was no longer the performer’s daughter. Ula couldn’t call herself an orphan because she had been adopted by the country. Wakanda was her mother and father now, Ula’s lot in life was to repay the kindness she’d been given after her parents had died. Working in the palace required a certain way of speaking, a certain way of walking. Ula learned quickly what was expected of her once she reached adulthood and she did her duty with dignity.

Still, the people of the royal palace were not her people. Ula belonged among the sellers and performers of the Great Market. She missed the clipped, angry way of speaking and the sweet-sticky treats she’d trade sketches for while running around the market as a child. The people of the market no longer knew Ula though, so she was left with her memories when the warmth of the palace can’t keep the child of the Great Market from her heart.

Ula’s apartments were modest, but they were more elaborate than those of other women of her station. Most bedwarmers shared quarters. They lived in a two-story house connected to the palace by a garden and courtyard. There, girls as young as sixteen are trained in the art of pleasure and service. If you’re good, you’re able to stay in those quarters until you married or found a different occupation. If you were bad, you were given a job in service to the crown in a different way.

Typically bedwarmers were saved for the royal family and its guests. In recent years, however, the kings in charge had used the bedwarmers less and less often until the number of girls taken in to be trained dwindled down from twelve every year to five then to three. Ula’s generation had been the most girls admitted in thirty years at six women total once it was announced that in addition to Prince T’Challa there was another young prince.

As a bedwarmer you weren’t expected to just service the royal family sexually you were expected to be their peace, their respite from the pressures of their duty to their nation and family. Ula and the other girls trained with her were given educations comparable to the young princes. Because of their duty to the throne, they weren’t allowed to date but they were given a small allowance and freedom to pursue their own interests as long as it didn’t get in the way of their duties to the crown.

Ula had taken up painting and reading as her hobbies. She knew of a girl a few years older than her who’d taken up technology and spent her time in the Palace laboratory helping to develop new devices for Wakanda. There was another girl still who had fallen in love with agriculture and spent her time at the community garden. It was an untraditional way of life, and Ula knew that not many approved of it, but she was happy.

Ula enjoyed her work. She was good at it, sex had never been an issue with her after growing up traveling with merchants and performers. When her parents died when she was thirteen she’d had a choice between working in the palace or helping out in the mines. Everyone knew that the mines were a death sentence, no matter how many safety precautions the royal family put in place. The palace was an easy choice, one she had never had cause to regret.

Ula approached her private apartments and was unsurprised to see a Dora warrior standing outside her door. The woman was tall and statuesque in her red and silver uniform. Her bald head gleamed under the late afternoon sun streaming in through the window but the woman didn’t look uncomfortable by the glare at all.

“Miss Ula, the Prince demands your presence.” The Dora warrior’s voice sounded deep and pleasant despite the cold blankness of her face. Ula never had the option to be apart of the Dora Milaje. It would have been an insult to the institution, not to mention the dozens of families who sent their daughters to the cause every time a prince was born.

“Did he say what he wanted?” Ula distractedly stepped around the Dora warrior to get to her door. If one of the Princes wanted her there was no question she would go where asked. The question did buy her enough time to stow her purchases in her studio next to the pile of new books she’d bought last week. With slow movements, Ula took off the calfskin leather gloves she’d put on for the trip and moved into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“He requested your presence at once. That was all.” The Dora sounded annoyed. She’d no doubt caught on to Ula’s dawdling and had had enough.

“And I guess you’re here to escort me?” Ula turned to the Dora still waiting in her doorway.

The woman rolled her eyes, “The prince does not like to be kept waiting.”

Ula nodded, well at least she knew what prince* the Dora was referring to. There was only one prince who would request her presence and then send an escort as the messenger.

“Well, it’s a ten-minute walk from my apartments to his chambers. If you’ll allow me to freshen up before we head out I’d be grateful.” Ula had spent more than an hour in the Great Market, she smelled like the sun and dirt. While those were two scents she herself adored on her brown skin, she knew a certain prince who didn’t feel the same.

The Dora sniffed in derision, it was obvious how little she liked that idea. Ula would put money on the fact that she resented this whole encounter. It was not usually the Dora Milaje who fetched the royal bedwarmers. Fetching was more of a servants job. But, a certain prince didn’t give a damn about the hierarchy of palace jobs. In his eyes, we were all servants and therefore, beneath him. What did it matter if a particular servant was higher in status if they were all equally, underneath him?

Ula had always liked his lack of elitism, it was one of the things she liked about the man.

“You have three minutes. Any longer and I will go to the prince to tell him you were gone when I arrived at your chambers.” before Ula could respond the Dora returned to the corridor in front of her front door and turned her back on Ula.

Ula tried not to make a face at the woman’s back as she moved to quickly freshen up before her meeting with the prince. She reminded herself not to get angry. The Dora couldn’t help her derision for Ula. For generations, the Dora Milaje were carefully selected as children to train for the day they would protect the King of Wakanda. When it came time for him to take a wife, it was expected that he would choose one of them.

For years the only threat to the Dora Milaje as far as their status with the king has been bedwarmers like Ula. Like the Dora, bedwarmers served for life. They were completely loyal to the king. In some respects, they shared many first with the king before a Dora could even be selected for marriage. Ula carried a bit of sympathy for the Dora in her heart, even when they were less than kind to her. She’d been raised to love the royal princes just like them. If she were in their position she imagines she’d be just as hurt as they are.

Ula knew that the Dora had been thrown a huge blow when Prince T’Challa announced at his last bornday that he wouldn’t be choosing his wife among the Dora Milaje. Ula perfectly understood his reasoning behind it. Unlike his cousin, Prince N’Jadaka, T’Challa had grown up closely with the people who would one day become his advisors and protectors. He’d known most of the Dora Milaje since he himself was a child. The Prince must have found it difficult to imagine marrying someone he’d seen as another sister or friend all his life.

Now all eyes were turned to Prince N’Jadaka, the Wild Prince. He’d shirked tradition since he’d first step foot on Wakandan soil. There was widespread doubt that he’d ever marry, let alone one of his Dora warriors.

“You have thirty seconds and then I am leaving.” The Dora Milaje called into Ula’s apartment just as she put on a finishing spritz of perfume. Three minutes wasn’t anything when it came to getting ready but Ula had done her best.

“I am ready,” Ula called to the waiting Dora Milaje. The woman nodded once and then turned to walk ahead of her down the corridor towards the palace. Ula walked behind the woman with her head down and her hands folded demurely in front of her. Already she was slipping into the next role, folding the pieces of herself back into the recesses of her heart so that when she stopped in front of the prince’s bedchamber she was no longer Ula but a royal bedwarmer.


	2. N'Jadaka

The Dora Milaje knocked on the large door before pushing it open and stepping inside. Ula could hear the stoic woman announce her presence from her place in the corridor. Ula knew to wait until she heard his voice before she stepped into the room but her feet shifted impatiently where she stood. It had been a few days since she’d last seen him. Ula wondered about where he’d gone and what he’d seen.

Like the rest of the royal family, he traveled extensively. If he came back in a good mood he’d tell Ula about where he’d gone and what she’d seen. Her fingers twitched for a paintbrush, already picturing the beautiful locations he’d detail for her.

“Tell her to get her ass in here!” the Prince’s voice carried out into the hall, stalling a passing servant in his tracks.

A beat of silence settled thickly from the Prince’s room and out to the corridor. The servant seemed paralyzed within it, he couldn’t move, wouldn’t stop staring at her. Ula shifted again, this time not out of impatience.

The Dora Milaje opened the door wider and motioned Ula inside. A cool sweep of relief made her limbs go from hot to cold as Ula stepped unsteadily into the prince’s bedchamber. The room was dark, every light either off or turned low. With her head down Ula couldn’t locate him but she could practically feel the steel in the spine of the Dora Milaje standing so close to her.

The woman looked and certainly was strong, but this was the first time Ula could actually feel it. They’d been raised differently, bred for different purposes and never was that more apparent than when they stood next to each other. The Dora wasn’t very tall but she had power in her compact body. Her stomach was flat to the point of sculpted. Her arms had actual muscle on them that, when flexed, looked as impressive as they did threatening. Powerful thighs held up by strong legs and calves completed the Dora Milaje body type.

These women moved as one with a deadly, catlike grace that looked closer to a synchronized dance than a battle formation. Their bald heads added to their fierce femininity. As a unit they looked powerful, individually they were otherworldly. The Dora next to her had deep dark skin, warm and rich like sienna. Her round eyes were equally dark but beautifully shaped by large fans of makeup-free eyelashes.

Ula, on the other hand, was smaller. She’d be called petite without the Amazon next to her and the slight mountains and valleys of her curves couldn’t have differed more from the compact strength of the Dora. Her skin was a brown that tinged more towards yellow-brown than the deep brown of the beauty next to her. Her eyes were so dark you couldn’t see the pupil and her hair was long and unruly unless attended to by a servant. Her hair was an impractical length and the curls coiled themselves into knots unless carefully detangled and braided.

Their differences were stark, yet only one of them looked like they were fit to be seen with a man like Prince N’Jadaka. Ula, feeling brave in the dark of his private chambers chanced a glance up at the prince through dark eyelashes. He lounged on his bed shirtless, the patterned scars on his chest, both old and new, were half covered by shadow in the din. While his chest was a sight to behold all chiseled and cut from years of hard training and battle, Ula found herself searching his face.

Was he tired? Had he been fighting? Was he injured? Ula looked for the answers in the lines on his face and the dark of his half shadowed eyes. The scruff around his chin he called a beard looked freshly brushed and oiled, which meant he’d had time to shower before he called for her. In the dark room, there wasn’t a tray or table filled with food which meant he hadn’t eaten either. Ula pursed her lips, That man does not know how to take care of himself.

“Leave us,” Prince N’Jadaka barked. His voice cut through the silence so suddenly Ula snapped out of her thoughts abruptly.

“Wait!” She turned to the Dora in a panic, startling the warrior and the Prince into staring at her like she had two heads.

“Your Highness I didn’t see a tray when I came in and I know you’re always hungry after your travels,” Ula was quick to explain, “I wanted to ask the Dora if she could find us a servant to bring you something to eat.” Ula’s heart pounded in her chest. Had she said the right words? One slip up and she chances insulting the Dora Milaje (more than the prince already has) or angering the prince for stepping out of line.

Prince N’Jadaka could be indulgent when it suited him. In the privacy of his room if Ula wanted to force him to take care of himself he allowed it. This was the first time she’d done so in front of another person.

Ula chanced a glance at the prince and then cleared her throat, “I myself have just come back from a walk through the Great Market and haven’t had anything to eat before I was summoned.”

At that, the Prince’s face changed. He himself could go days without eating and wouldn’t blink an eye. Ula however, was expected to take the utmost care of herself, skipping meals was not allowed. In seconds whatever look her outburst caused was gone and he was back to impatiently glaring at the Dora, “You still here?”

The woman startled. She’d been too busy staring at Ula like she’d grown antlers to notice the cutting attention of the princes’ focus on her. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“Just go. And while you’re going, get us something to eat. Wait thirty minutes before you come back and then knock before you come in.” With that, his attention shifted to Ula and the Dora Milaje was dismissed.

The Prince didn’t wait for Ula to approach him. Seconds after the door closed behind the warrior woman he was on his feet and out of bed. A strong hand shot out so fast that Ula had no time to react as he gripped her wrist and yanked her into his chest. Using his other hand he spun her so that her back faced his front and then sat them on his bed with her sitting on his thigh. The movement was so sudden and so smooth all Ula could do was wait for it to be over.

The Prince’s hand dug into the soft skin of Ula’s hip but his grip felt comforting, anchoring. It allowed her to settle more securely on his lap. A movement that obviously pleased the prince if golden glint of his dark smile meant anything.

“I ain’t see yo ass in a week,” His grip became tight and then his face tightened into a suspicious frown, “How come you weren’t waiting for me at the dock like I told you to?”

Ula smoothed a hand down his cheek to calm him. Her angry prince, she loved when he sulked for her.

“It wasn’t my place, Your Highness,” Ula spoke softly. He never told her so but she knew that he was always a little overstimulated after a mission away from Wakanda. Ula was the first one to darken his room and send away the servants and advisors that besieged him whenever he returned home. Ever since Ula has been a key part of relaxing the prince and making sure he took care of himself.

“Fuck that, I wanted you there.” The Prince’s eyes were closed and he turned his cheek into her palm, resting there for a moment.

“The Queen and King-”

The Prince groaned and rolled his eyes, “Do not bring my Aunty and Uncle into this.” he squeezed her closer, letting her feel the slowly hardening length underneath her thigh.

Feeling the shift in needs Ula shifted on his lap and threw a leg around so she could straddle him. The movement was awkward because her legs weren’t really that long and he didn’t allow that much movement with how closely he gripped her. But Ula was a pro at this so she managed it and smoothed over the awkwardness by kissing at a sensitive spot on his neck. In seconds she felt the tight line of his shoulders relax and the hardness in his pants grow harder.

“We can arrange for me to be in your bedchamber after every mission. I’ll order you a great meal for every homecoming,” Ula nibbled at the skin she’d been kissing. Her Prince liked a little pain with his pleasure. In tandem with her kissing and biting, she rocked her hips. The Prince’s hands spasmed against her waist before tightening their grip. Soon enough he took over her rhythm, moving her just as he wanted her and driving her crazy with friction.

“Ula, fuck just like that don’t move.” One of his hands moved from her hips to pull at the fastening of his pants. Ula adjusted her skirts, baring herself to him. Seconds later he’d opened his pants just enough to pull his dick out. Without a second to waste he arranged Ula perfectly over his length and pulled her down onto him with one smooth thrust. He sank into her like her pussy had been carved to fit the curve of his dick. They both moaned, helpless to the pleasure that swept through both of them at that first sweet stroke.

Ula had enough sense to wrap her legs and arms around the Prince. Gently she rolled her hips trying to get acclimated to the sheer length and girth of him. On one hand, she felt split open, he was so big and it felt like it had been forever since he’d taken her. On the other hand, she craved the too-much-not-yet feeling. Ula felt drunk on it and when the Prince came back to himself he gripped her hips in a familiar way.

“Oh Bast, yes!” Ula cried out with abandon. Prince N’Jadaka lifted her by the hips and then smoothly sank her back down the length of his dick. At the same time, he pounded into her with devastating thrusts against that spot, spending sparks of pleasure through her with every movement. Using nothing but his strength the Prince moved Ula how he wanted her to move, wrenching pleasure not only from her but taking his own as well.

Ula was a pawn, a moveable piece. She tried her best to reciprocate. When aware enough she’d roll her hips until the Prince let out a weak sounding, “Fuck, baby!” But Prince N’Jadaka preferred her incoherent with pleasure, so he did his best to immobilize her until all she could do was take his dick and cum until she fell apart at the seams.

|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|

It was after round three that Ula came back to her body enough to open her eyes and look at her surroundings. The Prince had cum, she felt the evidence of it cooling along her back. He lay on one side of the bed, a long muscular arm was thrown across his eyes and soft sleep noises escaping his mouth. Ula watched the sleeping prince knowing she was seeing something few others have seen before. N’Jadaka at rest.

He looked like a pit bull with his face all tight and scrunched up while awake. It was something in the ferocity of his dark eyes or the pull of a snarl at his lips. But when he was asleep, still, like this, he looked half his age. And tired. Ula’s fingertip ran along the dark circles and bags underneath his eyes. The Prince was having his nightmares again. Ula wondered who starred in them this time. The Prince had never outright told her what haunted him, who he was running from. Ula knew it was not her place to ask.

No, the monsters in his dreams are the secrets he tells to another woman. That woman may not be a Dora, but Ula knew that woman wouldn’t be a bedwarmer. It was just not done. Ula knew her place, and most times the Prince knew it as well. Her fingers hovered over the white bandage on his thigh. His markings were getting lower now, he’d run out of space on his torso.

Ula left the bed to get cleaned up in the Prince’s bathroom. After a quick shower, she wrapped herself in a bathrobe and cleaned up their clothes. She arranged them neatly in the hamper, more neatly than she needed to really, before returning to the bed where the Prince still slept. She wanted to join him. Ula knew how much he liked waking up with her in his arms. Still, she hesitated. She had her books waiting for her back at her apartment. And she’d splurged on lamb at the Market that morning and was looking forward to eating the rich juicy meat with some rice for dinner.

All of these wants should come second to her job, her duty to the Prince. Yet they haunted Ula in the silence. Her job was easy when it was just seduction or being the caring hand the Prince sometimes needed. It was when he was asleep when she knew he would prefer to wake up with her when many others before him would have preferred her gone before they opened their eyes, that was what made her flounder.

A knock broke her out of her silent worrying. With relief, Ula realized it was the food they’d requested. It was at least an hour after the Prince had requested the food but Ula understood that an hour late is better than on time. If the Dora had returned when the Prince had suggested she would have heard the sound of her prince trying to blow Ula’s back out and Ula enthusiastically begging him to do it. Ula wasn’t a cruel person, she wouldn’t wish the soundtrack of their lovemaking on anyone.

She opened the door to find not only the Dora but a kitchen servant with a cart laden with enough food and drink for a party. Suspiciously the Dora looked Ula up and down. Ula allowed her scrutiny if only because she recognized that the woman was technically in charge of protecting the prince from any threat.

“The Prince is indisposed and I don’t think he’d approve of being seen that way without his knowledge. I can take the cart inside from here.” Ula reached for the cart handle and the servant that had been pushing it looked to the Dora Milaje for guidance. The Dora checked something on her kimoyo beads before shooting Ula a look and then nodding for the servant to relinquish the cart.

Ula shut the door on both the servant and the Dora while she pushed the cart filled with food further inside the room. At one end of the Prince’s chambers was a sitting area so Ula set the table with plates filled with Erik’s favorite comfort foods. Then she filled a smaller plate full of fruit and set it to the side for herself. From across the room, she could hear the Prince waking up. Ula hurried to the bed and crawled in just as he began swiping an arm up and down the mattress looking for her.

Ula slid into his grip smoothly and without opening his eyes the Prince gripped her tightly and closely to his chest. “Where’d you go?” He mumbled sleepily

Ula snuggled further into his grip and let him tangle his legs with hers, “The food came and I was making your plate.” She kissed his Adam’s apple, “Are you ready to eat? I’ve already made your plate.” Ula ran her fingers through his locs. He was due for a touch up soon.

“I wanna eat in bed,” N’Jadaka squeezed Ula closer and made no move to get out the bed.

Ula continued stroking his hair, enjoying their moment of peace. Tomorrow he’d be back on the royal circuit. Attending to his projects and going to meetings with his cousin and Uncle. There would be less time for him to spend with Ula. When they did get together he wouldn’t be as open and warm as this.

“I can feed you, my Prince.” Ula murmured against his chest. She was being more affectionate than usual with him yet he allowed it. Grudgingly the Prince opened his eyes. Deep brown iris stared at her with an emotion Ula couldn’t read. He didn’t look as tired, but it would take more than a nap to get rid of the dark circles under his eyes.

“Let’s go eat, my Prince. I want to hear about your travels. What country did you go to this time?” Ula managed to pull the Prince into a sitting position. She slipped off the bed, still gripping his hand. The Prince leaned out of the bed to keep contact, eventually getting off the bed himself.

When he sat at the table Ula had prepared for him he stared down at his plate hungrily and didn’t wait for her to take her seat across from him before he started eating his food. Ula hid a triumphant smile behind a berry. Halfway through his plate, the Prince told Ula about his trip to California, in America. It was where he’d grown up before he came to live in Wakanda. She made him explain in great detail all the things he’d seen, the stuff you couldn’t see in a tv show or movie.

After their meal, Ula went to her usual place in his lap, while he continued telling her about the foods he’d eaten while there. He spoke until his voice grew hoarse and he ran out of synonyms for spicy and salty. When Ula tugged him to the bathroom he allowed her to run him a bath and gently soak his skin in the sweet oils and soaps of their country. America would always be a part of him, Ula knew, but Wakanda was what rejuvenated him. Wakanda healed him.

After his bath, Ula massaged his body with lotion and put him to bed with a kiss on his forehead. He’d gone pliant and sleepy beneath her capable hands, a warrior at rest. He didn’t complain when she took control, just sank into her touch gratefully with closed eyes. Ula lay in bed with him until his breathing became deep with sleep. His grip on her hips went from crushing to loose and she was able to slip from the bed without waking him.

In the corridor, moonlight filled out the dimly lit hallway in front of the Prince’s chambers. The Dora that had escorted her to the Prince’s room still stood at attention in front of his door. Dark eyes as hard as flint wouldn’t even look at her as Ula passed the woman to start on her way to her own room. Just as well, Ula wouldn’t want to be in her place. They were both only doing their duty. No reason to bring emotion into this.

When Ula entered her apartment and started getting ready for bed she realized she was still wearing the robe she’d put on in the Prince’s bedchamber.

Bast!, Ula thought, no wonder the Dora wouldn’t even look at her. Ula could try her best to win that woman over but they would never be able to forget their occupations.


	3. T'Challa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for this Part :
> 
> “Lala kamnandi, Ula,” : Sleep well, Ula

Ula is wearing a long comfortable cotton skirt, it’s lacings tied securely up her shapely hips. Her top covers her breasts and that’s about it, allowing her shoulders and back to be free in the homey warmth of her apartment. Ula had the day to herself and she planned to enjoy it. There was sweet plum wine chilling near her easel, and she had a delicious dinner cooking away in the oven. In a few hours she could enjoy her roast and potatoes but for the time being she planned to paint the vivid images Prince N’Jadaka had planted in her head.

Ula was working on the shadows in her base layer when a tentative knock startled her from her focus. There were very few people who would knock on her door, especially at this time of night, so confidently Ula opened her door with her paintbrush and wine glass still in hand. As expected, Prince T’Challa stood on the other side, looking sheepish and out of place in his royal in the corridor of her humble apartment.

“Your Highness,” Ula saluted the Prince and he jerkily returned the salute before raising a hand and smiling.

“Please,” he ducks his head, “Can we not? Can I just-”

Understanding dawns on Ula, “Of course T’Challa, come in. Would you like some wine?”

The Prince looks grateful as he steps into her apartment. Ula shuts her door behind him and turns to find dark, intelligent eyes studying her setup. Her apartment is smaller than the smallest room in the palace, but it’s luxurious for a woman of her station. She lives alone and doesn’t entertain often. When picking her home Ula searched for something with a lot of light and enough room for an easel and a bed. To T’Challa she’s sure her home is different from what he was accustomed to.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.” T’Challa still looked apologetic and it caused Ula to smile at him. Taking his hand in hers she ran her fingers along his calloused, scarred knuckles.

“You could never impose. There’s enough for both of us and dinner is hours off.” Ula tugged him towards her modest but comfortable seating area, “I’ve been looking forward to another one of our talks for days now.”

T’Challa looked both pleased and surprised to hear that. Ula allowed him to compose himself while she poured him a glass of plum wine. It would take a few sips of this to get him to relax enough to get what he came for. T’Challa was such a gentleman, but he would work himself up into a tizzy if Ula let him.

“I would have come to you sooner but with the return of my cousin there was much to be done.” He accepted the cool drink gratefully and took a deep pull from the glass while Ula moved to sit next to him. “Once we attended to those duties father wanted to speak with us.” Ula saw as T’Challa tense with the mention of his father.

Ula didn’t know much about his relationship with the king, but she did know Prince N’Jadaka had a love-hate relationship going. Both men obviously idolized the king, but something was causing a strain in all of their relationships. If Ula were anyone else in Wakanda, she’d assume it was because they were both vying for the throne. Challenge Day wasn’t a long way off. Soon enough the cousins would be expected to face off with one another. Ula knew they loved each other like brothers, but whatever element of pressure the king brought into it isn’t helping with T’Challa’s worry about the fate of his relationship with his cousin.

“Did he want to talk about Challenge Day?” Ula placed her feet into T’Challa’s lap. The man’s attention immediately focused on her painted toes. They were a dark purple today, so dark they looked almost black. T’Challa seemed fascinated by them and couldn’t stop playing with them even as he thought of the best response to her question.

“He wanted to talk about the different roles that would be needed of us for Wakanda. Whether either one of us became king the fate of Wakanda is on the shoulders of our generation.” T’Challa stopped messing with her toes to shoot her a sad look, “He hasn’t talked of Challenge Day in ages. Mother says he’s getting sicker without-” T’Challa cut himself off and shook his head. He’d said too much. Ula rubbed his thigh with the ball of her foot.

“It must be hard confronting you’re father’s mortality and the future strain of your relationship with your cousin. I know that family is really important to you.” Ula watched as T’Challa swallowed the rest of the wine in his glass like it was a shot.

“It is my duty to be a good king for Wakanda. Every decision I make will affect our people.” T’Challa looked off into the distance as he spoke. Ula was sure he wasn’t even aware she was in the room anymore.

She could see now that her prince was an anxious mess. As the oldest, it had been expected since his birth that he would be king. The discovery of Prince N’Jadaka hadn’t changed that but he was still another contender on Challenge Day. There was a chance that Prince N’Jadaka could challenge him for the throne. No matter what happens from that day onward their relationship will never just be cousins, family. It will be between a king and his subject first, and foremost.

Ula pulled her feet out of T’Challa’s lap so she could sit forward and take the empty glass out his hand. T’Challa’s head turned so that their eyes met and Ula’s heart clenched at the pain she saw there, “I’m sorry to come to you like this. There’s nowhere else in the palace-”

Ula leaned forward slowly and kissed the prince on his warm, plump lips. There was the bittersweet taste of the plum wine there on his tongue, but as Ula deepened the kiss she could taste the freshness that was all T’Challa. He came alive under her touch and returned her kiss with a desperation that knocked their teeth together. With a laugh, Ula pulled away and T’Challa dropped his head into his hands in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The Prince groaned out. Ula continued to giggle shaking her head at the Prince’s melancholy face. While he continued to hide in embarrassment Ula got off the couch and got to her knees in front of him. With calming, sweeping motions of her palms up and down his thighs, Ula brought T’Challa’s attention out of his head and back to her.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me T’Challa. I don’t need you to try your best. You need to be yourself.” Ula maintained eye contact and with steady, swift fingers began undoing the fastenings of T’Challa’s pants. His eyes widened in surprised and Ula enjoyed the swell of his chest as his breathing became ragged with want.

“Ula I-” T’Challa’s voice broke off with a moan as Ula’s hands found his slowly hardening erection. He felt like long, velvet steel in her grip. She couldn’t help but give it a few strokes experimentally. T’Challa writhed under her touch and cursed with a bit off a moan.

Setting a slow, tantalizing pace Ula began to talk to a stunned silent T’Challa, “I know you want to do what’s best for your family. You’re a good son. But what Wakanda needs is a good King, not a good son. That’s all your father wants you to be.” Ula flicked her wrist on the upstroke three times in a row and T’Challa moaned and thrust into her grip.

“Ula,” He begged, “Ula, please. I can’t hold on much longer.” Ula relaxed her grip and slowed the strokes down until she was cupping his rigid dick. With slow, seductive movements Ula released his hard length from the confines of his pants. When she released it his dick swung enthusiastically towards his stomach, the tip flushed red and dripping with precum.

While T’Challa struggled to compose himself Ula said, “Prince N’Jadaka loves you as much as you love him. And just like you, he wants to do what’s good for Wakanda. There’s no reason either one of you becoming king should mean the end of your relationship.” T’Challa’s brown eyes searched Ula’s for a long moment.

“How can I be sure?” T’Challa’s eyes searched her’s desperately for an answer, “There is more at stake than my relationship with my cousin.”

Ula nodded, “You’re right. But how could Wakanda not benefit from the guidance of both of its princes?”

T’Challa didn’t seem to have an answer to that. He sat back into the soft cushion of Ula’s couch and seemed lost in thought for several seconds. Ula waited him out patiently on her knees. T’Challa was a good man, she had no doubt that he would make the decision that worked best for their country. He was a man who loved deeply, a man who realized that he couldn’t always make his decisions based off of love.

“I’m glad I came to, Ula. You’ve given me much to think about.” T’Challa graced her with one of his rare, sweet smiles. Ula smiled back at her prince, pleased to have pleased him.

“Shall I continue,” She glanced appreciatively and took the still hard length of him into her hand. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she missed their talks.

T’Challa’s mouth curved up into a sultry smile and his eyes raked her form appreciatively, “Yes, please. Take your time, I want to watch you.”

Ula followed her princes’ orders and took her time taking him apart. With her hands she stroked his length to full hardness, peppering kisses up and down the shaft. Gently, she liked at the sensitive head of his dick, tasting the bittersweet salt of precum and sweat, before taking the whole cap into her mouth. With a groan, T’Challa fought to keep himself still. Ula opened her eyes to watch his fists clench while he struggled for control.

Sucking on the tip of him, Ula squeezed and massaged the shaft of his tick in tandem with her sucking. When she came up for her she licked at his dick until it was a sloppy slick mess in her palm. After setting up a rhythm with her hand Ula leaned her mouth back over his head and sucked her way down until she met her first. There was no way she could take all of him into her mouth, the man was just too long and her jaw wasn’t built for that. Instead, she went up and down the length of him, sucking and tugging without her lips ever moving from her fist.

T’Challa came apart under her ministrations, clenched fist kept at his sides like he was waiting for permission to touch her. Ula gave him that permission when she used her free hand to pull his clenched fist apart and rest it on her head. That was all the invitation T’Challa needed before he began thrusting powerfully into her mouth. Knowing better than to fight the intrusion, Ula allowed herself to relax around his dick and give him full control.

Feeling her release control sent T’Challa wild and three strokes later he pulled out of her mouth in time to cover her face in his hot release. Ula received all of it obediently closing her eyes and opening her mouth until she felt T’Challa sag bag into her couch, spent. Carefully Ula opened her eyes and swiped at the sticky mess he’d left on her face. Personally, she didn’t care for facials but she knew it was one of the rare things T’Challa always wanted but never had the courage to ask for.

The way he looked at her with hunger and possession in his dark eyes told Ula she’d made the right choice in staying still and letting it all happen. He looked so relaxed he might sink into the plush of her couch and disappear. His eyes were starting to droop and his movements as he placed himself carefully back into his pants were sluggish.

“Help yourself to more wine, T’Challa. Dinner should be ready soon enough.” Ula remembered her duties as a hostess before she dismissed herself to clean up. When she returned she found T’Challa dozing on the couch with a peaceful look on his handsome face. Ula felt warmed by the sight, and that warmth followed her into the kitchen as she put the finishing touches on her meal. There had been many nights spent cooking Prince T’Challa when he came to her seeking stress relief so the scene felt familiar to her, welcome.

When Ula began serving the food T’Challa woke up and helped her set the table for their meal. While she poured their drinks he carved into her roast and served them both. Their meal was rich and comforting and filling, just what T’Challa needed after he’d come to her all stressed. While they ate T’Challa told her more about his worries come Challenge Day. Ula listened because she’s learned that with T’Challa so few listen to him.

As the oldest son a dynasty was placed on his shoulders before he could say his own name. Now he must fight with the other future leaders of his generation for his spot on the throne and it’s causing him more than a little turmoil. Like Ula, he understands his place in Wakanda. Yet, unlike Ula, he has yet to accept that his role in their country will ask him to do things he might not want to do. Like battle with his cousin and the Young Gorilla from the Jabari tribe.

While they talk T’Challa relaxes more until she suggests they retire to her bedroom. At this point it’s beyond late, they’ve finished their meal, and Ula is looking forward to laying down in her comfortable bed. T’Challa glances at the dark opening of her doorway, something in his eyes tells Ula that he won’t be laying with her tonight.

“I would love to, Ula. I just have an early meeting with my father and the other leaders tomorrow.” T’Challa stands to leave. Like the good hostess she was, Ula walks him to her door, handing him the plate of leftovers she’d made just for him.

“You do not have to apologize, T’Challa. I’ve enjoyed the time we spent together.” She meant every word as they passed her lips. T’Challa beamed down at her and before he stepped out of her door he leaned in to hug and kiss her on the forehead.

“Lala kamnandi, Ula,” T’Challa whispered into her curls.

Ula shut the door behind the prince and went about her living room clearing their glasses and turning off lights. After putting her dishes in the dishwasher Ula was finally free to collapse in bed. She wished T’Challa had taken her offer to stay in bed. Ula knew he suffered from insomnia and he slept best wrapped in his arms. She was sure he’d be up all night thinking about their conversation but she worked to keep those thoughts out of her head.

Ula had fulfilled her duty to the crown, anything T’Challa went through outside of her bedroom she couldn’t help with.


	4. M'Baku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Translations for this part:
> 
> “Ingelosi,” - Angel,  
> “Buhlungu, ngelosi,” - Sorry Angel,

The Jabari led escort arrived promptly at Ula’s door right when M’Baku told her to be ready. Tonight she wore her calfskin gloves as well as a floor-length fur coat with a hood that swallowed her head and curls easily. She left the Golden City with her hood drawn up, wearing nothing that would give her away as a servant to the royal family. With the Jabari warriors, Ula walked to the edges of the Golden City where a carriage awaited to take her the rest of the way. Once she was settled, the carriage started it’s swaying incline into Jabari lands.

As a girl, Jabari land hadn’t come up often on the list of destinations her performing family traveled to. The Jabari people were as cold as their weather and as hard and stubborn as their wood. It was something everyone said in Wakanda but it was up in the air whether or not people actually believed it. In her experiences Ula had found the Jabari to be hardworking, caring people who put the needs of the many ahead of the needs of the few.

Their current ruler, M’Baku, was known as the Young Gorilla. For such a young ruler he is well beloved and respected by his people. When Challenge Day arrives Ula knows that Prince T’Challa will have to face him along with Prince N’Jadaka for his right to the throne. It was known that M’Baku was a large man and a formidable warrior, one of the strongest among his people. At the end of the day, Ula knew there was a lot more the Young Gorilla than his strength. Just as she knew it would take more than sheer strength to rule a country like Wakanda.

Ula felt the cold of Jabari lands long before she saw the mountains the territory was known for. The Jabari warriors leading the oxen through the snowy path seemed oblivious to the sudden frigid wind that rocked her carriage as they made their way up the incline to Jabari land. Ula wished she had their resistance, even inside the carriage with her big fur coat she felt chilled. When they finally pulled in front of the Jabari palace Ula moved from her carriage to the warmth of the main building with relief.

A Jabari servant dressed not at all differently than the warriors, was quick to greet Ula and escort her further into the palace. Ula was directed to a private room where a fire blazed in the fireplace and a spread of food had already been laid out. She thanked the servant as she took off her coat and clothes. Now naked, Ula moved to the pile of furs near the fireplace and enveloped her body with the thickest from the pile.

Feeling luxurious in her fur and little else, Ula looked over the food that had been left out for her. There were fruits cut into beautiful shapes covered in powdered sugar to look like the snow-covered mountains outside the large windows surrounding the room. Water and a warm cider-like beverage filled the wooden jugs on the table of food. Judging by the warmth of the cider, Ula predicted that M’Baku would be joining her shortly. She fixed a plate of fruits for them to share and then poured them each a glass of cider.

Spreading her bounty in front of the fire Ula tucked into her meal without a care. There was something about frozen fruits that made the juice pop on her tongue and taste all that much sweeter. After every delicious bite, Ula found herself licking her fingertips, chasing the delicious juice staining her fingers. She enjoyed the meal alone with the knowledge that once M’Baku arrived he would receive all of her attention.

“That is what a man wants to see, a woman eating and taking pleasure from the act.” M’Baku’s booming voice carried across the room from where he stood in the doorway to another chamber. His chest was bare but he still wore the leathers covering his bottom half. Ula licked the last bit of berry juice off her bottom lip while staring at the attractive flex and contraction of M’Baku’s calves while he approached her.

“Would the lady like more?” M’Baku held up a bowl of bright covered slices of white peach, apricot, and pomegranates cracked in half. A thrill traveled through her body at the sight of M’Baku separating the fruit with his bare hands. Sheer strength can have its uses.

“Only if you’ll be joining me Lord M’Baku. I would have waited but I couldn’t help myself,” Ula rose to her knees and the furs around her shoulders parted to reveal a beautiful strip of bare, rich, brown skin. M’Baku’s eyes traveled up and down her body wordlessly but Ula could see the interest, the lust, beginning to cloud his vision.

With barely managed civility the Young Gorilla said, “I wouldn’t want to take you away from your meal, but I find myself hungry for something sweeter tonight.”

Ula shivered in anticipation baring more of her skin as the furs shifted with the movement, “Then, by all means, my lord, don’t let me stop you from your satisfaction.”

With a few powerful steps forwards M’Baku stood before her, towering above where she kneeled in front of the fire looking like a God surveying an offering. Ula moved to sit back, settling on her ass and spreading her legs so that M’Baku could get a good look at just exactly where he wanted to feast.

“Ingelosi,” M’Baku said the endearment like a prayer before sinking to his knees before her and pushing her legs up in the air and out of his way.

M’Baku licked at her clit teasingly, sucking the sensitive nub into his mouth before returning to maddening licks that had Ula bucking her hips to get more friction. M’Baku, not a fan of all her wiggling, used one large hand to pin her hips down. The other hand kept her leg up and out of his way. With two hand’s he’d completely immobilized her. The second Ula realized she was well and truly stuck M’Baku stopped licking at her clit to suck and nibble on the little bud until Ula fell apart screaming his name.

Ula had no time to come down or recover because seconds after her first orgasm M’Baku slid the hand holding her leg up down her thigh. When he sucked on her clit, Ula lost track of the hand until she felt two, huge fingers poking at her entrance. With wide eyes, Ula stared down at the Young Gorilla. She wanted to plead for mercy, she wanted him to never stop touching her. What she got was a cocky smirk from those plump lips of his and two, huge fingers pumping into her pussy. In seconds he’d wrenched another orgasm from her while building quickly to another.

“I need you ready for me Ula,” M’Baku moaned with concentration while Ula gasped for air. “I wanted you to take me into that sweet hole of yours all night.” His fingers slowed until they were stroking almost lazily inside her. Ula found enough focus to breathe, to recoup. It wasn’t until the chest of the big warrior bounced as he chuckled that she realized she’d dug her fingers into his peck and drawn blood.

“Your Highness, I’m so sorry.” Ula had to clear her voice twice to get the words out. She’d hurt her throat screaming through her fourth orgasm.

M’Baku’s fingers picked up the pace and Ula moaned into the big man’s shoulder while he said, “Cum for me Ula, that’s all you need to do tonight.”

M’Baku made her cum with his fingers three more times. Ula became a pliant mess of loose limbs and sweat. When she could do nothing but bat at his arm weakly, the Young Gorilla pulled away. He arranged an unresisting Ula on the furs so that she lay on her stomach with her legs slightly spread. He found a pillow from the bed on the colder side of the room and used it to prop her hips up.

The Young Gorilla walked out of sight but Ula could hear him somewhere the room. The sound of leather and the soft rasp of fur hitting the ground let Ula know that M’Baku had fully undressed. Still, she found herself gasping with surprise when M’Baku pressed himself along her back. He positioned the huge length of his dick so that he sunk into her as he settled more of his body along hers. All of the preparation from before to get her ready for him was much appreciated yet Ula still groaned from the stretch of him.

M’Baku arranged Ula so that she was fully covered by the bulk of his body. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, anchoring them together and sinking her further onto his ridiculous length. Ula moaned out a helpless, “Please,” that the young leader answered with a throaty chuckle.

“Don’t beg me yet, ingelosi.” M’Baku adjusted his legs to the perfect position so that his thrusts were not only powerful enough to take the breath out of Ula’s lungs but precise enough to hit that* spot everytime he sunk into her. M’Baku started a slow, yet punishing pace.

Ula moaned with abandon and clutched at the thick forearm of the Jabari leader. When he allowed her to move Ula rolled her hips back into his thrusts, sending the Young Gorilla into a frenzy. Next thing she knew she was sobbing through maybe her tenth orgasm and M’Baku had raised up on one arm to pull out and cum all over her ass. Pained groaned were ripped from the large man’s mouth as he shook with the force of his orgasm.

He collapsed at her side with a groan and another one of his throaty chuckles Ula could admit she was fond of. Ula rolled off of the sweat-soaked pillow and moved it out of the way so that she could lay closer to M’Baku. His powerful body was have covered in sweat and fur and it was probably the most attractive thing Ula had ever seen in her life. It wasn’t often that the leader of the Jabari tribe called for her, but when she did Ula never left unsatisfied.

“Are you well, Ula? I did not hurt you?” M’Baku ran a reassuring hand down her arms and bare hips. While there were some spectacular finger-shaped bruises on one hip, Ula was otherwise fine. When she told the resting warrior as much, he visibly relaxed.

“Thank you for coming here. I’m not unaware of the risk you take to see me.” M’Baku’s large hand cupped her cheek before moving down to caress her neck and shoulder, “Were you,” he cleared his throat, “Were you looking forward to coming to see me?”

Curling into his chest Ula allowed her body to relax against the hard planes of muscle that made up his body, “Of course, Your Highness. It has been several weeks since we last spent a night together. I was beginning to think you had gotten tired of me, at last.”

M’Baku touched her hair and shook his head, “Nonsense. The Jabari have been preparing.” his words hinted at more but Ula knew that was all he would say. M’Baku was not a foolish man, he understood where her loyalties lie, even while her head lay on his thick bicep. He would never commit treason against the throne, but the great warrior had not made it secret the distaste he held for the royal family. And most especially Prince N’Jadaka.

“Please be careful, my warrior. I don’t want you too busy recovering from your training to see me.” Ula rubbed at M’Baku’s chest, pulling a happy rumble from his lips.

“Buhlungu, ngelosi,” M’Baku rubbed at her hip in a comforting way, “I don’t want to worry. Let’s talk about something more pleasant.” The big man made a show of pretending to think. Ula wasn’t surprised when he abruptly turned to his side and trapped her closer against his chest.

“Tell me about your paintings.” M’Baku beamed, showing off his gap and beautifully straight teeth, “Last we talked you were painting the Jabari lands. Have you completed it yet?”

Ula had shared some of her artwork before, privately with her princes and M’Baku, but also at community art shows. M’Baku really enjoyed her landscape paintings. For the few weeks M’Baku had stolen her away from the palace, she’d come to love the sight of the Jabari mountains coming into view through the window of her carriage. That painting had been completed during the wait for M’Baku to send for her again. Ula told him that she’d painted it while thinking of him. It made the man beam.

Ula and M’Baku lay in front of the fire talking about art until the roaring blaze was little more than cinders in the hearth. Outside the windows, the sky turned bruise blue which meant dawn in another thirty minutes. It was time for her to start heading back to the Golden City. M’Baku didn’t pout or look angry when Ula announced it was time for her to go. He helped her dress and carefully wrapped her in her large fur coat himself.

When her carriage arrived M’Baku escorted Ula to the carriage and helped her step inside. Through the window, he held eye contact and gripped her hand tightly in his for a second longer.

“Challenge Day is coming up.” Ula nodded sadly at his words, already anticipating what he was going to say.

M’Baku clear4r his throat before he speaks up again, “I would like to see you before the battle. If you can get away.”

With a sad smile, Ula shakes her head, “It’s not my place to be at the falls during Challenge Day.” M’Baku’s head drooped, the grip he had on her hand loosened until it threatened to lose contact. The soft spot in Ula’s heart specially made for sad princes had her reaching through the window to hold onto his hand for a little longer.

“I would be there if I could. I hope you know that M’Baku. You are a great man and a good leader to your people. Wakanda would be blessed to have a ruler like you.” With one hand Ula pulled M’Baku closer so she could steal one last kiss from his downturned lips. She knew her answer hadn’t pleased him but there was nothing she could do about it.

M’Baku stepped back and the carriage pulled away flanked on all sides by five Jabari warriors. Through the small window in the back of her carriage, Ula could see the statuesque figure of M’Baku growing smaller and smaller. A turn around the mountain hid him completely from sight. Dawn rose in the wake of her carriage, casting Ula in a blue snowy haze. By the time Ula arrived in the Golden City merchants had begun setting up their shops but the streets remained empty of all except workers.

The Jabari carriage dropped Ula off a good mile from her apartment at the palace but Ula looked forward to the walk. Her week had been longer than she’d anticipated. There’d been a lot more men in her life than painting and Ula looked forward to having time to herself. There was a canvas on her easel waiting for the next layer of paint and the leftovers from her dinner with Prince T’Challa waiting in her fridge. Ula quickened her step at the thought of a breakfast of leftovers. She had to hurry home before the next prince summoned her to his bedchamber.

Walking through the Great Market to her apartment Ula felt all the different parts of herself at once. She felt like the woman Prince N’Jadaka allowed to care for him. She felt like the confidant she’d come to be for Prince T’Challa. Ula was the woman M’Baku relied on for gentle affection. All of those women, and at once she was the little girl who’d grown up hiding under the product-laden tables of the Great Market.

Ula was a woman hated and loved and desired and she felt all of that at once and was happy with her life. She may be a bedwarmer, but she was also Ula the painter with leftover roast lamb waiting for her in her fridge.


	5. Challenge Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt request on my blog.

Challenge Day began early, so Ula slept in late. Her bed had been a gift from Lord M’Baku, a huge Jabari wood bed frame that lifted her off the ground like a pedestal. It was large and ornately carved with her favorite flowers and sanded smooth. The mattress itself was custom made as well and it molded itself to Ula’s body like fabric. The combination of her soft mattress and sturdy bed allowed Ula to sleep well into the afternoon until loud banging woke her from her slumber.

Ula stumbled from her bed and wrapped her nude form in the royal blue silk robe she’d left hanging on the back of her door. Clumsy feet and tired eyes hindered her scramble to the door, where the pounding had increased to frame shaking raps that made her windows rattle.

Ula yanked open the door, ending the incessant pounding, and found herself face to face with Prince N’Jadaka. The shock at seeing him at her door was enough to make Ula alert immediately. It was the cut in his cheekbone and the tender way he held his side, that made her gasp.

“My prince,” Ula’s hand reached out to touch him before retreating. He was injured, Bast knows how severely. The first thing she needed to do was get him off his feet.

Prince N’Jadaka tried a cocky grin, but it was obvious that a bruise on his jaw made the act painful, “What, expecting the King?”

The cocky act crumbled when he tried to move. The Prince tried to enter Ula’s apartment with his usual animalistic swagger, but the movement hurt his ribs where she could see a purple looking bruise spread along his side

Immediately Ula moved to help him. She put herself under the arm on the side that hurt the most and took some of his weight on her shoulders, “Come, sit with me so I can make sure you’re okay.”

The first step forward was obvious agony for the prince. N’Jadaka groaned with each step until Ula could gently arrange him on her couch. Once he was settled Ula was frozen in place in front of him. She’d never seen the Prince injured before. It was like a glimpse into his mortality and it stirred something in her chest that Ula didn’t know how to deal with.

“I’m gonna look you over now. I’ll try to be gentle but,” Ula sank down onto her knees in front of the prince, “I can’t make it better until I know what hurts.” N’Jadaka didn’t say anything but he tilted his head towards her in acknowledgment.

His eyes were so far away and if it weren’t bleeding Ula would take the time to learn where he went when he left her like this. Who did he see, and what did he think of?

It’s obvious what he’s thinking of*, Ula thought to herself as she checked the prince’s legs for damage. There was bruising on his shins and a few minor cuts that wouldn’t even need a bandage. His shorts were still damp from the falls. He must have come straight to her after-

“I fuckin had em’,” N’Jadaka cursed under his breath.

Ula didn’t look up at him but she did rub his thigh simultaneously checking for more injuries and offering comfort. He flinched when she applied pressure on his upper thigh. Another bruise. Weapons were allowed during the fight on Challenge Day but it seems that the challengers chose to use their fists at some point.

His lower body was bruised and damp but otherwise fine. It seemed the majority of his injuries stemmed from his torso and what was visible on his face. And his knuckles. His calloused and scarred hand dwarfed her own. The differences between them were so stark she could tell the difference in their stations immediately. N’Jadaka, though a prince, had learned to use his hands for pain while Ula’s hands were meant for pleasure.

She had no idea what was expected of her, but the sight of him furious but defeated, bruised, and bleeding on her couch gave Ula the will to rise to her feet. She sunk her hands into his hair. The locs were in disarray across his forehead and still damp from the river. Gently massaging his scalp, she checked for cuts and bumps.

“That Gorilla nigga caught me in a hold after rattling my fucking teeth with his fist,” N’Jadaka gestured to his bruised and scarred torso with eyes that stared furiously over Ula’s shoulder. She could imagine he saw M’Baku’s face every time his ribs flared with pain.

Ula backed out of his grasp with one hand still on his head. She maintained this point of contact as she circled the couch, “I have to get my medicine bag, my prince. Please do not aggravate your injuries,” before letting go Ula ducked closer to him from the back of the couch and caressed his neck and shoulders until he relaxed comfortably into the couch cushion.

Her medicine bag was in the kitchen allowing Ula to keep an eye and ear out for her wounded prince. Ula was no Princess Shuri but she had picked up a lot on her travels as a child. Like which vendors sold the heart-shaped herb and how to ask for it in a way that won’t get her arrested. She bought the plants fresh and then preserved them the way her mother taught her.

It wasn’t exactly illegal to possess the heart-shaped herb, it was after all native to Wakanda. But the royal family had the only patch of pure plant breeds. What the rest of Wakanda has is so watered down from the real thing its used as a base with other healing medicines.

Ula had just enough preserves left over from a stay with M’Baku not too long ago. Careful of her dosage she measured off enough to fill a small, chilled glass.

When she returned to the living room Prince N’Jadaka was peeling at the remnants of his shirt still clinging to his back and shoulders. He’d spread out gingerly, to take the pressure off his thigh no doubt. Ula circled the couch just as N’Jadaka found a resting position that didn’t hurt his ribs.

Ula gave him a mock pout that he tried to scowl at, “You’re gonna hate me but you have to sit up to drink this,”

His eyes fluttered closed and his nostrils flared. Ula took pity on him and sank back onto her knees in front of him. Thank Bast she had the rug to cushion her knees from the hardwood floors.

“I’ll take pity on you, my prince.” Uls kissed his unscarred cheek softly. Maintaining her closeness Ula used the warm, damp towel she’d brought from the kitchen to wipe at the blood and grit on his face. This close she could see his eye would have a terrible bruise once the swelling went down.

Ula took her time wiping gently at the hard sculpted planes of the prince’s body. Her eyes never left the warm brown of his skin as she swept the towel up and down his chest with light, barely there strokes.

So engrossed in her task of caring for the prince Ula wasn’t paying attention when he started speaking. Then his voice cracked between words and Ula snapped to attention. Her prince was glaring at an unseen enemy again, his face a stony mask of strength.

“I should have killed him when I had the chance.” the words are grumbled through tight lips. On any other day, Ula would sigh and accept that this was part of who her prince was. However, today was Challenge Day.

Ula looked him in the eye but she didn’t speak, she waited for him to say more. If he was going to go there she would let him. It wouldn’t be the first time N’Jadaka plotted murder against his enemies. Although usually, those enemies are against the crown. Ula had a few guesses what enemy her prince was referring to.

A part of her wanted him to say it. She wanted him to draw a line in the sand and pick a side. Ula stared into the eyes of her prince and dared him with a look. Will you say it? Do you trust me?*

N’Jadaka turns away. Ula catches the flash of guilt just as his eyes leave hers and land on the cup of herb preserve.

“I’m ready to sit up now.” The prince says lowly.

Ula helps him sit up matching his moans with a suck of her teeth and a, “Eh? You moan like this and I’m barely touching you. I have failed you as a lover.” This sent the prince into a spat of weak chuckling that lead to more groaning and side clutching.

Eventually, he was upright. Ula settled herself between his legs on the floor after handing him the glass. The Prince didn’t give the dark liquid a second thought before shooting it into his mouth. Once ingested the liquid took effect in seconds.

The cut on his cheek, the most superficial of all his injuries healed immediately. When his ribs began to heal Ula took his hand in her own, allowing him to use her as an anchor to sit through the agony of bones and muscles healing. The stuff they had in the palace was fresher, purer. She’d been told that as the heart-shaped herb healed the body it sent the mind to another world for rest.

Ula’s stuff was black market and almost as thick as jam. The prince was forced to wait out the pain with no rest, only Ula and for that she was sorry. It wasn’t the only thing she was sorry for.

She had no idea how to comfort him. Didn’t even know where to begin and worst of all she had no idea how it ended. The man had lost a throne, he’d been beaten bloody for his country and now… And now?

Well, now she didn’t know. Ula had always been taught to listen to her instincts when in doubt. So, while N’Jadaka healed, she tidied up her living room and kitchen and started a meal for two she could leave in the oven and come back to later on. In the bathroom, she lit candles and incense while picking out bath oils and soap.

Ula turned on the water in her tub and then returned to her living room to N’Jadaka. The Prince was done healing now. He no longer favored his side. The smaller bruises had faded away completely but the deeper ones remained. Instead of a purple so dark, it looked black on the princes’ brown skin they looked yellow and old.

The prince himself looked bone tired and seconds away from sleep but he allowed Ula to coax him from her couch and into the bathroom. The tub was filled to a good level so she turned the water off and slipped out of her robe.

“Can I take care of you, my prince?” Ula took his hand and carefully stepped into the bathtub. The water was hot enough to fill the bathroom with steam, adding to the ambiance Ula created with her candles and incense. Together they settled into the tub, Ula at his back with her legs wrapped around him. The prince sunk into the cocoon of her body and the bath water with a groan that sounded like relief. Soft music took them to another world. Soon they were no longer the Prince and the Bedwarmer, but Ula and N’Jadaka.

It was when N’Jadaka lay in her bed, that Ula relaxed back into herself. He slept on his back, the dark silk of her sheets afforded him some modesty. His chest was bare and a single arm was thrown out on her empty side of the bed, just as she’d left it.

With the single light on her cart of supplies, Ula settled in front of her easel and swiped a thin layer of paint over the canvas. Her mind couldn’t let go of the memory of N’Jadaka, defeated and furious, his eyes shadowed by regret and guilt. On his head, she imagines a crown of golden thorns. Around his wrists are golden chains that he grips in bloody fists. Ula feels an urgency to get it all down on paper or she’ll never be able to sleep.

While waiting for the first layer to dry she began mixing the colors she’d need for this piece. Browns, reds, gold, black, purple, and every shade in between were mixed and scraped across her palette. Without thought, her mind drifted back to the Prince in her bed and the circumstances that had put him there. N’Jadaka’s place in the kingdom wasn’t threatened. And Ula wasn’t worried about what the people of Wakanda thought of their prince. She worried about the man underneath the scars, strength, and violence.

With a careful mix of paint and turpentine, Ula began her second layer. She built shadows until she was satisfied by their depth. It wasn’t lost on her that now that T’Challa was King she was expected to serve him solely unless he allowed her to do otherwise. It was a reality she’d always been aware of yet thinking of it now made her look at the Prince still sleeping in her bed and feel an actual pang of guilt.

Selecting a new paintbrush Ula carefully dipped the tip in a pool of paint and stared thoughtfully at the canvas. T’Challa was a good man. He’ll position his cousin close to him no doubt. He’ll probably even try to mend the strained relationship between the Jabari too if given the chance. She would have to be careful, then, in how she went forward with her dealings with these men.

Ula wiped away a mistake with her thumb. In bed, N’Jadaka called out for her. Surveying her work Ula was content with what she had so far. She set down her paintbrush and flicked off the small light on her cart. In the dark, she skipped on bare feet to get back to the bed. When Ula slipped between the sheets, N’Jadaka pulled her closer until she was pinned by one large leg and an arm. He wasn’t going to let her go until he woke up so Ula allowed herself to relax into his warmth and slipped into a deep sleep.

The worries of Wakanda could wait. The only person Ula needed to worry about now was her Prince. The worries of tomorrow can wait.


	6. Goodbye Until Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations in this part:
> 
> “Iminwe yemilingo,” - Magic fingers,
> 
> “Yintoni engalunganga, Ula?” - What’s wrong?
> 
> “Urge the nam, Ula. Ndifuna ukukunceda.” - Talk to me, Ula. I want to help you.

It was the dawn of a new era for Wakanda. King T’Challa ascended the throne with much fanfare. After only a few hours as king, he immediately named Prince N’Jadaka as his advisor and as head of a series of outreach programs to be built in America. It seemed that T’Challa’s legacy would be sharing the wealth of Wakanda with a world that so desperately needs it. Ula herself felt a swell of pride in her chest when she heard the news of T’Challa’s first proclamations.

Change was coming to Wakanda, and nowhere was it felt more than in the palace. Zakia, Ula’s sister, had decided to leave her post as a Bedwarmer and work in the palace labs under Princess Shuri. T’Challa had approved the transition of her duties and later that week her things were removed from the Bedwarmer’s quarters. It was bittersweet watching her go.

Zakia had been closest to Ula because of their age. They’d even served Prince N’Jadaka together on many occasions. It had been Zakia who’d shown Ula how to sneak out of the palace for off the clock meetings. Zakia was a brilliant woman and an amazing lover. Ula would miss her.

Prince N’Jadaka never returned to Ula’s quarters after Challenge Day. Ula hadn’t thought he would. Once appointed to his official duties to the crown the prince’s schedule saw an increase in travel. Ula could admit she missed him. After finishing his painting she found herself unable to part with it. It still sat on her easel even now, weeks later.

M’Baku was a frequent visitor to the palace, something that the Jabari hasn’t done for many decades. T’Challa and M’Baku were working closely to see eye to eye on many things for the good of Wakanda. As King T’Challa was aware of M’Baku’s proficiency as a leader and warrior for his people. The two men seemed closer than any Jabari leader in memory ever was with a King of Wakanda.

He too no longer frequented her bed. He no longer sent for her. Ula knew enough to know better than to write to him herself. She was proud of the Great Gorilla. She’d hoped he would see how much better it was to work within a system to see the change you wanted, opposed to rebelling publicly against it.

Her lovers no longer needed her. It was a reality that was at once hard to swallow yet easy to understand. Something had happened at the falls. Her men had changed in some way. Ula selfishly wished she had chosen that day to go against duty. What had changed them? How could she find her own catalyst? Her own Challenge Day?

For as long as Ula has been in the palace her life has been dedicated to duty. Of course, there was the occasional rebellion, yet she’d never shirked her duty. She’d never broken tradition or stepped out of the parameters of her role. Ula had served the royal family the only way she knew how. Now, she wanted to do more. Ula wanted to see more, she wanted to change. Already she’d been forced to lose the men who’d ruled high in her life since her youth. Now they were all grown, the King had a responsibility to the crown to produce an heir, M’Baku as well. If they would be laying with anyone from here on out it should not be her.

Maybe Ula had reached her usefulness as a Bedwarmer.

 

Gathering her courage Ula dressed in her best gown and pulled her hair together in a long braid. It was still early enough that most of the palace lay asleep. Yet Ula knew of one man who would still be up, even now. Ula didn’t take the main path to the palace. She walked through the hidden corridor connecting the king’s chamber to the Bedwarmer’s quarters. Ula heard movement on the other side of the door when she arrived at T’Challa’s chambers. Ula let herself in without knocking, the king was too engrossed in his work to notice a thing until the sound of the door clicking shut snapped him out of his stupor.

“My king,” Ula smiled to soften the blow of her intrusion, “I did not think you would still be working.”

T’Challa smiled tiredly, he had the imprint of a tablet on his cheek and his desk was covered with all manner of paper and devices. His kimoyo beads pulsed a bright blue from the unanswered messages awaiting his attention. Ula had never seen the man so disheveled. His chamber looked no better. On the far wall, his large bed lay rumpled but otherwise untouched like he hadn’t slept in it in days. Trays filled with cold food, a dinner left by a servant no doubt, waited to be carted out the next morning by his door.

Ula put her hands on her hips and gave her king a disappointed look, “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, T’Challa.”

T’Challa beckoned her closer, “Forgive me. I lost track of time.” Ula settled into his lap and glanced over the documents on his desk.

“This,” Ula took the pen out of T’Challa’s hand, “Doesn’t look like anything you can’t finish after a meal and a good night’s rest.”

T’Challa tried to protest but Ula kissed his parted lips, stopping him in his tracks. T’Challa’s lips were soft but dry. As their lips moved together Ula could feel his resolve weaken as his body relaxed under her touch.

“I suppose a break…” T’Challa moaned into her kiss.

“And rest, my king. You need food, water, and rest.” Ula coaxed T’Challa from his chair and in the direction of the bed. He moved stiffly like he’d been sitting in one place for too long. Then and there Ula decided to be gentle with him.

Once T’Challa was settled in bed Ula skipped over to the cart of ignored food. There was a carafe of water, still cool, and a selection of finger food that would still be edible even after being left to sit. She pulled together what wouldn’t taste bad after being left to cool before hurrying to join the king in bed.

T’Challa had slipped into a light doze while Ula gathered some food and water from him. He got up easily when asked, and ate all the food Ula gave him. He drank from the carafe until it was empty and handed it off to her. When he settled into the bed again he looked a lot more comfortable, more relaxed. Ula’s work wasn’t finished yet.

Moving gracefully across the mattress Ula began to massage the tense, tight muscles in his thighs. Her fingers moved over the silk of his clothing drawing a sigh from his parted lips. Lips Ula couldn’t help but kiss when her hands finished with his thighs and moved up his torso to his neck and shoulders.

“Iminwe yemilingo,” the king moaned with a voice rough from how close he’d began slipping towards sleep. “ I did not realize how tense I’d gotten. I know I was raised to be a king but sometimes…”

“Shh, T’Challa,” Ula stroked his temples and all the lines in his face relaxed at once. Gently she pressed her lips against his in a soft kiss. It was easy to lose herself in the simple pleasure of his touch. With T’Challa, Ula could spend hours lost in the soft press of his lips, the slick sensual brush of his tongue against hers. T’Challa made kissing an art and Ula had always appreciated artists.

Ula dimmed all the lights in the room and then crawled under the sheets with T’Challa. They were cocooned in darkness and silky sheets. It was easy to reach out to one another across the mattress and entangle their bodies closer and closer. Ula’s leg found itself hitched around T’Challa’s hip. His hand, large and warm through her shift gripped the swell of her ass. One of his arms slipped underneath her neck while both of her arms were trapped between their chests in their embrace.

T’Challa wasn’t a large man, but he when he held her Ula could feel the barest hints of his strength. She didn’t feel bound or trapped by his grip, she felt protected. A familiar sense of safety warmed her chest and Ula found herself searching out his lips again. As they kissed, she tried to scoot ever closer to her king. Their fronts were practically molded together, but it wasn’t enough for her. Ula wanted to crawl inside her king, she wanted to bury herself in his embrace forever.

“Yintoni engalunganga, Ula?” T’Challa broke their kiss and tried to pull back to look into her eyes.

Ula wouldn’t allow him to separate. When he pulled back she pressed closer. T’Challa’s palms moved to cup her cheeks yet Ula dodged him, she pressed her face against his chest.

“I feel like I need to get closer to you, I feel…” Ula kissed at his bare chest, “I feel as if I’m starved for affection.”

It was the strangest thing. Ula had grown up in shared quarters with five other women. She’d spent her career being a lover and confidant to a few of the most powerful men in Wakanda. Still, Ula couldn’t stop herself from wanting something more. She wanted something all her own, for herself. This yearning in her chest was brand new, the only way she knew to sooth it was to turn to her duties.

“Where is this coming from?” T’Challa dodged Ula’s snuggling attempt. His hand caught her chin and he gently stared into her eyes, “Uthetha nam, Ula. Ndifuna ukukunceda.”

The concern in T’Challa’s voice moved Ula. She could hear how much he cared for her. In her heart of hearts, she wanted to tell him all about the yearning inside her. As the king, he would understand her instinct to stick to what she was trained for and do her part to serve the crown. He would also understand the wonder Ula felt about what life would be like for her outside the palace walls. Ula had known what she was going to be since she was thirteen years old, she’d never considered anything else.

“Zakia moved her things out of her quarters today.” Ula tugged on the sheet above their heads. She’d need fresh air if she was going to have the strength to speak truthfully.

“Yes, I know. I saw her on her way to the labs today.” T’Challa ran a comforting hand up and down Ula’s back. His touch felt heavenly, Ula couldn’t help but relax further into his chest. She hadn’t realized she’d even tensed up.

“It’s the first time in nearly a thirty years that a Bedwarmer left her post. And,” Ula licked suddenly dry lips, “And with all the changes you’re bringing to our country, I wonder if I myself should make some changes as well.”

T’Challa’s brow furrowed as Ula spoke. He didn’t seem confused, but Ula could tell he was trying to figure out what all this had to do with her neediness.

“I just wonder,” Ula’s mouth felt dry, “I wonder if it isn’t time that I myself, try out a new life path.”

“Do you not wish to be a Bedwarmer?” Ula searched desperately for any hidden context in T’Challa’s words. All she heard was genuine curiosity.

“I love my job, my king. I know it may sound strange, but I enjoy what service I give to the crown. But I wonder if I’m best serving you and the kingdom in my current position.” Ula clarified quickly.

“Tell me, Ula, what would you do were you not a royal Bedwarmer?” T’Challa smiled encouragingly at her. Ula held onto that smile for dear life. She was nervous, Ula wasn’t afraid to admit it. She didn’t worry about the king’s reaction to her words, T’Challa was at his core level-headed and very understanding. Ula worried about what voicing her thoughts would bring. Yes, she wanted to change but did she really need change? Her life was going well as it was, what more could she ask for.

“I cannot see myself doing anything other than taking care of you my king,” Ula kissed T’Challa’s grinning lips, “But, if I could do anything else I think I would still find myself into your bed.”

T’Challa’s eyebrows went up in surprise, “What makes you think that?”

Ula smiled and placed her pointer finger under one of the bags ever-present under the lovely eyes, “Because your so tense, so serious. You take your duty to the country very seriously, to the point that you will neglect yourself to do so. Because of this, you need me.” T’Challa laughed outright then. The sound was delightful, it brought a smile to Ula’s face.

“I do?” T’Challa asked through his chuckles.

Ula nodded her head seriously, “Of course my king. I love taking care of you, and will do so gladly whenever you ask me to.” Ula’s smiled faltered, “That said. I think I won’t be happy taking care of only you forever.”

T’Challa studied her face, “Would you like children, Ula?”

Ula smiled, “Oh I’d love a child. Two maybe, one day. But that’s not what I mean when I say I wouldn’t be happy taking care of only you forever.” Ula sighed and braced herself. She had to say this, she needed to say this. It would be the first time she acknowledged to the king the full scope of her duties, both to the crown and to those…technically not apart of the crown.

“Your cousin, Prince N’Jadaka, did you know he suffers from a rage that has followed him through childhood?” Ula didn’t wait for the king to answer. In a way, it was better if he didn’t. Ula needed to get everything out now if he interrupted her she feared she’d never have the nerve to bring it up again.

“He doesn’t take care of himself either, and his rage, when unchecked, drives him to do terrible things. And really, all the Prince wants to do is improve life for others so they wouldn’t have to suffer the way he did back in America. When he comes to me sometimes I pamper him, sometimes I allow him an outlet for all that rage.” Ula smiled, “In some ways, I became his peace in the storm of his mind. Something I try to do for you.”

T’Challa didn’t pull away after Ula mentioned N’Jadaka, but Ula knew that it would take more than admitting that she also bedded his cousin to rattle the king. They were both aware of her position in the palace. Exclusivity would have been unheard of until one of the princes were crowned. However, N’Jadaka wasn’t the part of her story she was worried about.

“After M’Baku spent the winter with us when you were younger, I provided peace for him as well.” T’Challa’s eyes went hard, Ula continued on anyway. “Your father encouraged me, at first. He thought it would calm him down enough not to go so hard against you and N’Jadaka during your sparring sessions.”

“Did it continue outside of that winter?” T’Challa spoke without any emotion or inflection. The sound of his voice was chilling.

“Yes, my king.” T’Challa released a breath through his teeth. Ula could feel every part of him tightening, all of the work she’d done to relax him going away with every tense second that passed.

“You should get to your point, Ula,” T’Challa warned.

Ula nodded and closed her eyes, “I understand your anger. This is why I think it best if I stop being a royal Bedwarmer. I can’t be exclusive to you.”

T’Challa gritted his teeth, “Is this what you came here to tell me? Was this so important that you had to get into my bed to tell me so?”

Ula tried not to let his words wound her, “No. You have been working so hard, my king. I had no ulterior motives when coming to you. I think it’s best though if I were to pursue a different path. I would still wish to serve you, but I would also be allowed to serve M’Baku and N’Jadaka if I were no longer a Royal Bedwarmer.”

T’Challa looked more confused than angry when he stared down at Ula, “This is what you want?”

Ula nodded earnestly. She was good at what she did, and she enjoyed it immensely. But T’Challa needed to know that she wouldn’t allow herself to be closed off from N’Jadaka and M’Baku. All of her men needed her, and Ula wanted to be available to them. Plus, outside the palace, she could create her own schedule and the men she served would have to deal with it.

T’Challa stayed silent for a moment but the tension in his form leaked out of him until he was once again pliant against Ula’s body. Ula waited in his arms listening to his heartbeat while he thought. Her stomach felt twisted with nervousness, her hands felt clammy and like they were separated from her body. Still, she clung close to her king. Ula couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“I will give you the freedom you wish,” T’Challa spoke after five minutes of silence. A spark of surprise burst in Ula’s chest. She giggled happily and squeezed the king in a hug, or as much of a hug as she could accomplish with both of them laying down.

“Thank you, T’Challa.” Ula kissed his chest, his neck, any available skin she could reach until T’Challa scooped her up and close to his face so their lips could meet. The sweetness of his kiss was a heady relief. Her body felt both hot and cold, the only equilibrium she could find was T’Challa. The warmth of his bare skin was grounding, the heat in his kiss made her stomach flutter.

“My king,” Ula whispered against T’Challa’s lips.

“Ula,” T’Challa moaned.

“I know you still have to file the paperwork, but I want my first act as an ex-Bedwarmer to be me riding you until we both come undone from the intensity of our pleasure.” Ula had a lot more than that planned certainly, but for now, she focused on bringing the man in bed with her as much pleasure as possible. He was giving Ula her freedom, and for a gift like that, it would be remiss if she didn’t repay him the best way she knew how.


End file.
